


Distraction

by floosilver8



Series: Mollock Quips [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Dancing, Drug Addiction, F/M, Fluff, His Last Vow Spoilers, Lunch, No Porn, Sherlolly - Freeform, mollock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 00:56:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1206886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floosilver8/pseuds/floosilver8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock needs a to get out of the flat but can't be alone.</p><p>References you don't get might be from the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1183646">previous installment</a>. Not necessarily required reading.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distraction

Sherlock’s bored. Really bored. John’s been back at 221B for four weeks and is still not talking to Mary. She has texted him a few times but he always makes Sherlock respond to her. It’s petty and tedious. He’s sick of it.

John returned from the Brighton Butler case four days ago. He’s been spending the time alternating between moping on the sofa and moping in his chair. When he’s not moping he’s barking orders at Sherlock to tidy up. He keeps picking up Mary’s A.G.R.A. flash drive and putting it in different places. But that’s all he does, moves it and stares at it. Or moves it and pretends to ignore it.

Sherlock needs a break, or a case, or a cigarette - or twelve. _Or something stronger. No. NO!_

John needs to work this out on his own. Sherlock’s been holed up in his room to avoid witnessing the moping. He pops open his laptop to check the website. No new messages. _Damn it_.

He fishes his phone out of his dressing gown pocket and txts Lestrade, _“Need an unsolved mystery. – SH”_

_“Not on my day off. I can give you a cold case on Monday.”_

He sighs and groans out of frustration, flopping back on his bed. It doesn’t comfort him in the slightest. Mrs. Hudson washed his sheets two days ago so they don’t smell of Molly anymore. _Dear, sweet, Molly_. _Focus on Molly. Breathe._ _You do not need to smoke...or anything else. Just transport._ They had spent the day together after their official first date, but she had to return to work the day after that. She would be at the lab now. It was almost time for her lunch break.

He sits bolt upright. _Surprise her. Women in films love surprises_. _...I think_. He quickly freshens up and gets ready to leave. He opens his bedroom door slowly and peaks out, trying to deduce where John is. _Stretched out on the sofa. Arms crossed over his chest. Eyes closed. Breathing slow. He’s been there since 4am. Couldn’t sleep. Dozing now? Yes. Unlikely to wake up and shout abuse._ As quietly as he can Sherlock tiptoes through the hall, into the kitchen, and reaches for the door.

“Avoiding me?”

 _Damn it_. Sherlock clears his throat, “Just going to Bart’s. Experiments need checking.”

“Tell Molly ‘hello’ from me.” John rubs his face and sighs, “Don’t fuck this up, Sherlock. She’s too good for you.”

Sherlock turns and exits. _I know that, John. Don’t I know it._

Instead of hailing a cab he walks to the Baker Street Tube station and quickly catches the Circle Line to Farringdon. It seemed to be one of the few nice summer days they could expect for Britain. It was too warm to wear his Belstaff at any rate - especially on the stuffy Tube. _"I like trains."_  He smiles to himself thinking of that day at Shilcott's flat with Molly. _How does she continuously put up with me?_

On his way from the station to Bart’s he stops at Beppe’s Café to pick up a slice of tiramisu, her favourite.  He suppresses the memory of his jump from the building straight across the road. _Keep walking. Eyes front. Everything’s fine. It’s all over._ He quickens his pace to the hospital entrance so the cake doesn’t have a chance to melt in the mild heat.

She’s hunched over the work bench when he enters the lab. Her back is to the door and she’s twirling her braid distractedly. _The way she looks when she thinks no one can see her._ He slips behind her without being noticed and bends to kiss her neck.

She starts violently and knocks him in the nose with the back of her head as a result. “Oh, God!” she turns and realises it’s him, “Sherlock I’m so sorry! Are you bleeding?”

 _Fuck, that hurt._ He holds his head back and pinches the bridge of his nose but manages a smile. “No, I’m fine. Nothing dislocated. May have rattled your cake though,” he holds the tiramisu out to her. It’s squished against one side of the plastic container but is otherwise fine.

“Oh my, thank you!” She takes it from him and kisses his cheek. “What are you doing here? I’m afraid I don’t have any fresh bodies for you.” He pulls a face still shaking off the pain. “I mean, hi, I’m glad to see you as always.”

“No, no that’s ok.” _I need you to distract me._ “Isn’t it past time for lunch? Shall we sit outside and enjoy the sun while we can, like proper Britons?”

She smiles warmly at him, “I’d love that.”

\---

There’s a small park across from Bart’s where hospital staff like to congregate. Everyone’s apparently taking advantage of the normally scarce sun. There are hardly any benches so the only place to sit is on the grass. A group of nurses nearby are playing music on a phone while they sit and eat.

Molly lays her lab coat on the ground and sits on part of it with her legs tucked underneath her. She pats the other half and Sherlock stretches out next to her. She unpacks her lunch, offering him half of her egg and cress sandwich. He doesn’t need to eat today of course, but a short while later she insists he have a bite of the gorgeous tiramisu he brought her. It is good, he has to admit. Coffee he can usually get behind regardless of his “just transport” policy. Chemical reaction of caffeine on the body did have its advantages. He might add chocolate and lady fingers to that list of things he should indulge in more often.

“John says hello, by the way” he says when they’ve finished the cake.

“Oh,” she swallows hard but manages to smile. _Still embarrassed?_ “Hello back. Any update with Mary?”

He shakes his head thoughtfully and looks around. She nods then leans back on her arms and closes her eyes to the sun. He rolls up his sleeves and does the same. They stay like that for several minutes until a cloud passes over the sky.

“I’m sorry to say, I need to get back. But this was really nice.” She places her hand over his. _Pulse threatening to burst veins (mine). Pupils dilated even in the sun (hers, possibly mine as well). Breathing purposely regulated (both)._ He pulls his hand back quickly like he’s been shocked.

They stand up and walk back to the lab. _Palms moist with sweat._ He shoves his hands in his pockets.

Once in the lab she settles herself back at her stack of paperwork.

He sits beside her.

She smiles over at him.

He smiles back weakly.

She adjusts her papers.

He crosses his legs.

She smoothes her braid self-consciously.

He brushes imaginary lint off his trousers.

She scratches her temple.

He clears his throat.

She squints at her paper.

He stares at his hands.

She puts down her pen, “Sorry, was there something you wanted me to help you work on?”

He starts, “No. No, no.”

She squints at him.

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes, “Just need to be out of the flat. Lestrade won’t give me a case.”

She nods but doesn’t stop studying his face, “That’s not the whole story.” It’s not a question. She’s seen him like this many times before. Cool on the outside, buzzing like a maniac on the inside.

He sighs and looks away. _Damn it._

“Sherlock, what is it? What’s wrong?” She places a hand on his arm.

“Nothing’s wrong.” _Except for me_.

 _Pulse racing again (mine). Testosterone levels increased_. He lunges forward and captures her mouth in a passionate kiss. She responds in kind. He holds her head in his hands. She paws at his back.

“So then I said to him, it’s not _my_ liver, mate! Hahaha,” someone walks by in the hall talking loudly on their mobile.

It breaks the spell. Molly pushes him away still breathing hard. He presses his forehead to hers.

“Sorry, Molly. Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m distracting you.”

“No, no. It’s ok. It’s lovely. We just...shouldn’t...here. Can’t risk...you know.”

“I know, I know.” He releases her and rubs his face. “We do need to be careful. Moriarty’s gone, but you never know.” He clears his throat and scratches the back of his head.

She places a hand back on his arm, “Sherlock, are you alright?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m fine, I’m fine. I just need to be here. I need to be distracted. Can’t risk being alone,” he says very quietly. _Shit. Started talking, can’t stop._ “Can’t be around John while he’s in a strop,” he says more clearly trying to recover. “Can I just...do the washing up? Sort some slides or something? Anything tedious, I don’t mind.” He looks around the lab almost frantically. _Breathe, breathe, breathe._

She squeezes his arm. “It’s ok, Sherlock.” He looks down at his arm where her hand is. _No, it’s not_. “Is it just cigarettes or something stronger?”

 _Fuck_. His eyes shoot up to look at her. She doesn’t flinch. _She’s holding her breath. Nervous? Scared?_ _Both?_ He swallows hard then looks away. “I’d just, um, like to stay and, um, do something helpful. Is that okay?”

She exhales slowly. “There’s a sink full of Petri dishes and beakers that need scrubbing.” She smiles at him. _Nervous but hiding it well._

He smiles back, turns to the sink across the room and sets to work. He can tell when she’s watching him. He glances over his shoulder every now and again to smile at her. When there’s nothing left in the sink he starts cleaning the work tops. When all possible surfaces and instruments have been sponged down he restocks the supply cupboards. _Gloves (small and medium), pipette tips, razor blades, scalpels (all sizes), litmus paper._ She’s watching him again. He turns and smiles genuinely. She has her coat draped over one arm and bag on her shoulder. _5pm already?_

“C’mon, time to go home. Do you want to watch telly or a DVD tonight? I refuse to play Scrabble with you anymore.” She links her arm around his and drags him away from the lab. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly as they walk to the Tube station. “Will you eat or can I have whatever I want? Maybe we can convince Toby to come out and say hi.”

\---

Molly gets fish and chips from the place down the road from her flat. She eats at the coffee table in her sitting room. Sherlock lies on the couch behind her. There’s some ubiquitous panel show on telly. He stares at the back of her head and then steals a chip off her plate. She turns to look at him and smiles. _Beautiful._

The show ends so she turns it off. “Music while I make a cuppa?” she taps at her phone and puts it on the speaker dock near the bookshelf. Jason Mraz’s _I’m Yours_ floats out of the speakers.

Sherlock suddenly stands up and grabs Molly around her waist. He holds her close and they sway to the music. Molly smiles into his shoulder, a tad self-conscious but ultimately enjoying it. He spins her around with the last refrain and dips her as the song ends.

Molly smiles up at him, “Sherlock Holmes, what on Earth was that?”

Sherlock makes his face impassive and rights them both, “We never danced at John’s wedding.” _Also, I’m yours._

Molly’s smile could not be any wider.

 _Pulse increasing (mine). Breathe._ He nods and holds her gaze, “Thank you, Molly.” _For always taking care of me. For being everything I need, exactly when I need it._

“Not a problem, Sherlock.” She turns toward the kitchen, “Tomorrow you can defrost the freezers.”

“Not a chance.” He grins and steals another chip before plopping back on the sofa.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry there was no porn. Sometimes they just talk!


End file.
